Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
William Barry Jun 2014
The heart wants what the heart wants. The brain butts in and **** blocks our most valued, raw emotion. These feelings that could only originate from the pumping muscle in your chest that hurts after hearing tom petty or watching your favorite TV show's last episode fade away into the sunset.
   In a rare scenario where a man rolls off of his lady friend and has lit his nightcap cigarette, and STILL feels the sharp pang of love despite his release,  the man should ******* follow his heart, and become that cliche that 15 year old girls get wet over. Stay with that woman, I don't care if you've killed, pillaged, or ravaged, whether you deserve that pretty girl or not…you chase after her. Don't listen to you're head, you're head is what makes your **** hard. Follow your ******* heart, because I swear on my lucky cigarette that your mind (along with your ****) will give out long before your heart will.
Smell of wine and cheap perfume...
William Barry Jun 2014
Cheap mascara ruined.
Trixie started to cry,
as she watched the doctors
rot the apple of her eye.

Not with worms,
and not with disease,
but with scalpels and masks,
holstered with their fancy degrees.

As the gas evicted her
from our reality,
she slipped into a false state
of peaceful prosperity.

Then came along,
to Trixie's surprise,
an image of an angel
descending from the skies.

The angel was sarcastic,
and foul and rude,
appearing drunken and angry,
ruining her sedated mood.

The angel stumbled up,
and slurred some words,
about how only humans killed their offspring,
never the bees or the birds.

Then the angel smirked,
and said "*******!"
Not only did you manage to **** one,
but two.

Trixie died inside,
just as Trixie's twins
died alive.
Insomnia inspired Trixie's rude awakening, sorry for the ****** quality.
William Barry Jun 2014
Insomnia drips, then floods,
stealing your dreams,
like someone building dams,
diminishing rivers to streams.

Hangovers steal the nights,
that you wish weren't quite over,
pummeling your head with pain
as you wake up slightly sober.

Pretty girls flood in and flood out,  
stealing your thoughts as they travel,
revealing the mystique
that you were too quick to unravel.

The grunge street people lower their eyes,
as you steal a glance.
What you don't realize your stealing is their pride,
as you stride by in your iron pressed pants.

The night steals the day,
in a colorful sunset.
Only to let the sun rise up once again
as if filled with regret.
Open your eyes
William Barry Jun 2014
Buried in a place deep beneath my sea
rests a chest that betrays
my beliefs and priorities.
Within this chest,
secrets that nobody knows.
Because this chest dwells
in a place that nobody goes.
A place where Dr. Seuss
perverts my brain.
A place that should you go,
you would go insane.
The problem with this chest,
is that I've lost the key,
and alongside with it,
my beliefs and priorities.
William Barry Jun 2014
Shriveled up,
the body was
as it lay in shambles
behind the bus

No longer a person
no certain gender
globs of brain and hair
stuck to the fender

Screams were heard
across the street
as the driver stumbled out
and collapsed to his knees

Tears trailed down
his stubbly cheeks
as he crawled his way
down the street

He stared in disbelief
at the heap
of skin, blood, bones and ****
at his feet

He started to *****
and started to pray
he ran his son over
on father's day.
William Barry Jun 2014
Snark, waspy, narcissistic
rude, racist, pessimistic
pretty blonde hair
with her ruby red lipstick
she tastes so sweet but her thoughts are sadistic
I want out,
but I want in,
I can't resist it
Pardon me, Polly
Can I take you off my wish list?
William Barry Jun 2014
Given in,
Given up.
The leaves sacrificed themselves for winter,
yet the trees didn't seem to give a ****.
The trees make letting things go so easy.
       If we were able to let things go and watch such things fall away from our branches and wither away and die into little colorful piles on the dirt, for colorful sticky little people to jump into and send flying into the air,
     we would have no "care".
               There would no loss, tears, Kurt Cobains or fears
               of losing the ones we love.
There wouldn't be Hallmark cards for issues.
Kleenex would stop making tissues
and start making plastic plants or cheap patio furniture.
Unfortunately, we are not trees.
We cannot let go of our leaves.
hmm...
Next page